


Shout If You Know

by staycoolstaykind



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boxing, Boom!inspired, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Angst, Minor Violence, so minor, this is a fic about na jaemin getting over his shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 14:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20116825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staycoolstaykind/pseuds/staycoolstaykind
Summary: Lee Jeno has been fighting for as long as he can remember, and now he’s decided to at least make some money off all the punches he has to throw. Na Jaemin is the soft spoken librarian who loves him—but hates violence.





	Shout If You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Note: this is a fic version of an AU I posted on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/alleywhomst%22). There's been minor editing and some bits have been added to make it flow better in story format, but if it seems awfully familiar then that's why!

Jaemin has learned to treasure his mornings with Jeno. In their few months of cohabitation breakfast has become something of a holy moment, a time where they owe nothing to the world and can sit in comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence. Dinner is never promised to them, not with shifting schedules and heavy class loads, but breakfast? Breakfast they never miss.

It's perfect. Soft and sweet and everything Jaemin ever wanted out of living with his boyfriend, a quiet, careful domesticity that hints at what their mornings could be like for the rest of their lives. It fills Jaemin with warmth, something so simple as watching Jeno cook eggs; the way he dishes them out onto two plates before adding fruit and bringing them over to the table, the way he shuffles around in the bunny slippers Jaemin bought him as a joke their first Christmas together. He drops a kiss to the top of Jaemin's head before sitting, legs folded under him on his chair as he tucks into his breakfast.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, both still stuck between being half-asleep and half-awake. When Jeno finally speaks it's with heavy lidded eyes, blond hair fluffy and messy from sleep. "You're off at four today?"

Jaemin is still too out of it for verbal responses. Instead he nods, scrunching his nose and smiling in a way that makes Jeno flush red and duck his head down, shoving another bite of egg into his mouth. Jaemin loves him. Loves how shy and gentle he is, how noble and sweet. How darling. He loves how someone so tough can be so soft, and Jaemin will spend the rest of his life finding every unique way he can make Jeno blush.

But then Jeno speaks again, and shatters the easy peace that's settled in over the morning.

Jeno looks nervous, which should be Jaemin’s first hint as to what’s coming. "I...I know what your answer is going to be, but I figured I'd ask anyway. I um...I have a bout on Friday, and it's supposed to be a pretty big deal." He's careful to stare at his food as he speaks, careful to avoid the look he knows he'll find on Jaemin's face. "There are going to be scouts there, and it could be a big deal. And it'd...um. It'd mean a lot to me if you thought about coming."

Jeno’s side hustle as an amateur boxer has been a spot of contention between them since very early into their relationship. Jaemin learned very early on that he can’t be a part of the violence that’s constantly gnawing at the edges of Jeno’s periphery, can’t support the bruises and blood and the old ghosts that just won’t seem to die. He’s said so, time and time again. Yet here they are, once more, about to have a conversation that they both know will end poorly. 

Jaemin sighs, putting his fork down and resting his palms flat on the table. "Jeno—"

"I know you hate it," Jeno interrupts, leaning forward and trying to get Jaemin to meet his eyes. "But. Just this once, maybe? And I'll never ask again, I promise."

He's damn near begging, and Jaemin hates that. Hates that this isn't the first time they've had this discussion, that it won't be the last. He hates that Jeno just doesn’t _get_ it. "Jeno. You know I can't, I'm sorry."

Jeno looks down, chopsticks paused over his plate, hovering in midair. Jaemin can see the way Jeno's jaw sets, the tension as he grinds his teeth. Jeno shakes his head, swallowing. "Don't say 'can't' when you really mean 'won't.’”

"Fine, I won't," Jaemin corrects, voice soft but resolute. "I'm not okay seeing you get hit again and again, and I'm not okay seeing _you_ hitting people. It makes me uncomfortable, Jeno. I wish you could understand that."

Jaemin pretends to not see the hurt in Jeno's eyes, the way he sinks in on himself at Jaemin's words. Part of Jaemin thinks he out to reach out, soothe him in some way, but he absolutely can't give quarter on this. His mind is made up.

He can't be involved in this part of Jeno's life.

They sit in silence for a moment before Jeno nods, standing and bringing his half eaten food to the trash. He scrapes it into the bin, setting his plate in the sink. "I get it, I'm sorry I asked," he murmurs, looking down. His voice is soft. He’s defeated. And that realization makes something sickly and uncomfortable stir low in Jaemin’s stomach.

Jaemin sighs, standing. "Jeno—"

"No, I understand. I really do." Jeno says with a smile, so forced that it makes Jaemin's heart split in two. "I'm going to shower and hit the gym. Have a good day at work, okay? I love you." He’s rushing, spitting the words out, making sure to shift the conversation before Jaemin can come back with something that might sound a little bit too close to pity. Because Jeno can handle a lot of things, but Jaemin knows that he can’t handle when people pity him.

He kisses Jaemin's cheek as he walks by, and his hurt is so obvious, so deep, that Jaemin knows he'll carry his guilt with him for the rest of the day.

-

Jaemin was right. He thinks about their conversation all throughout the morning and well into the afternoon, and there's a soft voice in the back of his mind whispering again and again that this is all his fault. It doesn't help that the library is dead today. All he can do is shelve books and think, consider his choices. Turn every single word he spoke over and over in his mind, try to consider angles he’s never viewed things from before, coming up bereft every time.

He doesn't know how he's supposed to compromise on this. That's the problem. How is he supposed to grin and bear it as Jeno uses his fists against other people, as he takes his own blows with resolute determination? Especially knowing Jeno's background, how hard he's struggled, how angry he's felt…

Jaemin just can't make it work in his brain. Even knowing Jeno is away at a bout makes him sick, his nerves on end until his boyfriend is home, safe in his arms. He hates the bruises, the bloody noses, the aches and pains he tries to massage out of Jeno's limbs each night. He hates the nights when Jeno loses, shoulders sagging, questioning his own strength. He hates even more the nights when Jeno wins, when he presses Jaemin into the mattress with wide, grinning lips, the taste of blood coppery-sharp on Jaemin’s tongue.

He hates it. Hates that Jeno loves it. Hates that this is how he's decided to put himself through school, that he can't just...bag groceries somewhere, like a normal person. That he can't see how much Jaemin worries about him.

Still, that doesn't mean Jaemin can't make peace in some small way. When his shift is over he texts Jeno a little string of heart emojis, making sure he's still out training before grabbing his jacket and heading out. Doyoung is sitting at the desk looking supremely bored, though he does manage to perk up a bit to say goodbye.

“Take me with you, I can’t handle how bored I am,” he whines, pretending to reach for Jaemin’s hand. “What are you doing with your afternoon?”

“I’m going to bring Jeno dinner,” Jaemin says, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I was...a shitty boyfriend this morning, I need to do some sucking up.”

Doyoung nods knowingly. He’s been with his boyfriend Yuta for six years, both have had to do their fair share of grovelling over time. “Been there. Good luck with your sucking up, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Jaemin nods, flashing a thumbs up as he walks into the balmy summer air. On the way to the gym he stops at Jeno's favourite fried chicken place, grabbing their usual orders and a few sweet things to nibble on after. He stops briefly at home to feed the cats, and from there it's a short walk to meet up with Jeno.

The gym he trains at isn't exactly chic. There's a shabby looking boxing ring in the middle, free weights and a few machines to one side, punching bags to the other. The place isn’t empty but that doesn’t mean Jaemin would call it busy. He waves to a few of the bulky looking men who stop to look at him in confusion as he walks by, eyes scanning the space nervously for his partner.

He finds Jeno working over a heavy looking punching bag, the dull thud of blow after blow landing against the worn red leather heavy in Jaemin's ears. Jeno looks...intense. Lost in what he's doing. His white tank top is drenched in sweat, clinging to him like a second skin. His hair flops in his eyes, but Jeno refuses to let it distract him as he strikes out again and again. Each punch causes his muscles to bunch and shift under his skin, and Jaemin is once more caught off guard by how physically strong he is. He's so focused. It makes Jaemin anxious, nerves pooling low in his stomach. When he can't take it anymore he clears his throat, catching Jeno's attention.

Jeno turns, eyes going wide when he sees Jaemin standing there behind him. Immediately he grabs the sandbag to stop its wild swinging, snatching the towel from around his neck and wiping the sweat from his face. "Hey! What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

Jaemin wishes it were strange for Jeno to ask him such a thing, but the simple truth is that Jaemin has never stepped foot in the gym before. Every now and then if they're setting out at the same time in the morning he'll make it as far as the front door, but he's careful to kiss Jeno and go on his way before he's invited inside. He can't imagine how out of place he looks in his button up and blazer, looking around nervously any time someone looks their way.

"Everything's fine," he finally responds, flashing the smile he saves for when he's trying to win an argument. It's the same smile that caught Jeno's attention three years ago, when they met in that seedy bar not too far from campus, when Jaemin had sent over a drink and a coy wave. He holds up the bag in his hand, shaking it gently. "I brought food. Thought you might be hungry since uh...since you didn't finish your breakfast this morning." He can feel his cheeks flush, prays that Jeno sees this for the apology it is.

And Jeno, because he's perfect and sweet and kind, does. He smiles right back, taking a step closer and leaning in to kiss Jaemin's forehead. "That's amazing. You're amazing. I'm starving, actually."

"I'm guessing you're not done," Jaemin says, looking around. "Is there anywhere we can sit and talk while we eat?"

Jeno nods, resting a gentle hand on Jaemin’s waist and guiding him away from the workout equipment. They find a quiet corner away from all of the sweat men hitting things, sitting together on the ground with their knees practically touching.

Jaemin sighs, reaching over to take Jeno's hand. "Hey. I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't...handle that very well." The tape wrapped around Jeno's hand is rough under his fingertips, the texture strange as he strokes his thumb along Jeno’s knuckles. "I'm sorry."

Jeno shakes his head firmly, though he doesn't look up. "No, you don't have to be. I shouldn't have asked, I know how you feel about...all of this." He glances up, looking around the gym with a soft sigh. "I'm sorry I put you in a weird spot."

It's so like him to take the blame for everything, to be the punching bag in every fight he takes on. Jeno’s gotten so good at taking hits, Jaemin never wants to be the one throwing the punches. He’s supposed to be his oasis, his port in a storm. 

He shakes his head firmly, squeezing Jeno’s hand. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. You asked for my support and I...I was shitty. I could have explained myself in a million different ways that wouldn't have made you feel like I was putting you down." Jaemin looks up, scraping his teeth over his bottom lip. "You've...you've come really far with talking about your feelings and asking for my help when you need it. It's not right that I shut you up like that."

Jeno looks away, face distant as he absorbs what Jaemin has said. After a moment he looks down, shrugging. "Okay. I accept your apology." There's something on his mind. It's so obvious in the way he hides his face so Jaemin can't read what's behind his eyes. That’s okay, Jaemin is good at annoying Jeno into talking to him.

"Come on, slugger," Jaemin says softly, tugging at his hand. "Tell me what you're thinking about. That's what we do, right? We talk. We get all the shit out in the open and we feel better after."

Jeno is silent for a long moment before forcing himself to meet Jaemin's eyes. "You know I'm not like...a violent person, right? I know that what I do is a little extreme, but...I would never bring that home. I would never do that to you."

Jaemin's heart drops. Never once had he considered that Jeno might think he’s _afraid_, afraid of _him_. He immediately reaches forward to cup Jeno's face in his hands, making him look. Making him understand. "No. No no no. Lee Jeno I would _never_ think that about you. You're the most gentle person I know, I could never—I would _never_—"

"But I used to be," Jeno insists, looking like a frightened animal cowering away from the hand trying to feed it. "That's the thing, right? I used to be, you know that. Violent. Angry. I still am angry, Jaemin. All the time. You know that."

"But I don't know that," Jaemin practically begs. "I don't know because you never tell me. So _tell_ me, Jeno. Help me understand why this is so important to you, why you're so dedicated to coming home with bruises every week. Please?" 

Sitting in the middle of a vaguely busy gym is maybe not the best place to do this, but Jaemin doesn’t want to lose the opportunity. He doesn’t want Jeno to have the chance to back down, to run from this. So if they have to do this here then they’re going to.

Jeno looks away again, and for a moment Jaemin thinks he's lost him. Lost the opportunity to finally hear about what makes Jeno so happy to be a human punching bag. But then Jeno sighs, scrubbing his hands through his sweaty hair as he looks back to Jaemin.

"My dad was a piece of shit,” he starts, and he looks so, so tired. Jaemin almost wishes that they could have this conversation in bed, so they could lie down and hold each other close while they talk. “I know you know a little bit about it, but I don't talk about how bad it was. He was rough on my mom, and if I tried to step in he'd turn on me instead." He sets his jaw, shakes his head. "He was a bully. There's literally no other word for it. I broke my curfew once when I was fifteen and he broke my wrist.”

Jaemin swallows hard. He’s shaking, but he hopes Jeno doesn’t notice.

"But then I got bigger, and I wasn't so easy to shove around anymore. So I started fighting back. And I learned that my fists were the quickest way to solve my problems, to get him to leave my mom alone, to diffuse the situations."

With those words Jaemin can feel his heart shattering in his chest. He's always known Jeno had a rough childhood, but he never quite knew the extent of it. "What happened when they died? Where did you go?" The car accident that killed Jeno’s parents is another story Jaemin only knows the bare outline of, but that one might have to wait for another day.

"I took off on my own," Jeno says, shrugging. "I found a cheap enough place I could afford without help, started taking odd jobs where I could. Figured I just wouldn't be the person who ever got to go to school and make something of themselves. I was okay with it."

"But you never got to stop fighting, not even when he was dead," Jaemin whispers.

"I guess I just have the sort of face people want to hit," Jeno says ruefully. He looks over at the soft, wounded sound Jaemin makes, frowning. "Nana..."

"No, I'm okay," Jaemin says, wiping furiously at his eyes. "This isn't about me right now. I'm just thinking about that guy the first night we met..."

It had been some jerk who didn't like how Jeno and Jaemin had been flirting all night, the way they’d danced and laughed and hung off of each other. He tried to corner them, tried to push Jaemin around, but faster than lightning Jeno had stepped in. One solid punch was all it took to put the guy on the ground, to get him off their backs.

Back then Jaemin didn’t think of the implications. He didn’t worry about how hard Jeno hit him, how easy it was to win the fight. He’d been too busy swooning over his knight in shining armour stepping in to save him, pulling Jeno back to his apartment to ice his knuckles before blowing him against the refrigerator door. 

Now though, now he knows.

"Violence...it's been the only language people have ever understood from you," Jaemin says softly. "Jeno-yah."

"Not everyone," Jeno says, offering a broken sort of smile. "Not you. You're the first person who actually listens when I talk. I'm so much better now, because of you."

"Because of you," Jaemin insists, his heart an open wound. He wants to kiss Jeno so badly, so he does. Leans right in and presses their lips together, one hand lightly touching Jeno’s cheek as he tries to make him understand without words just how much he loves him. "You're the one putting all the work in, I just show up occasionally when your therapist asks me to."

"Yeah well. That means a lot," Jeno says, laughing softly.

Jaemin sighs. "So boxing..."

"Boxing," Jeno murmurs. "It's...I don't know. I've had so many people push me around my whole life. It's been a way to control the fight, to actually get some sort of use out of it. The money's been good and I'm still just a nobody, so I can’t imagine how it’ll be once I get somewhere with it."

Jaemin takes umbrage with the idea of Jeno being a nobody, but he keeps his mouth shut.

"It's a way to...direct my anger. To get it all out so the stupid shit doesn't drag me down every day, I can pour it into something else."

Needing something to do with his hands, Jaemin starts unpacking their food. "So you can control your anger, instead of it controlling you."

"Yeah, which..it's still there, which I guess isn't good," Jeno mutters.

"You've had a lot to be angry about," Jaemin says, looking up with soft eyes. "And you've come a really long way. Please don't ever forget that."

"Well. Now I have a lot more to be grateful for," Jeno says, grinning softly. He and Jaemin's eyes meet, for a long moment sharing a look that says more than words ever could. Then he snorts, shrugging. "Anyway. Can that be enough feelings for now? I'm starving."

Jaemin grins, passing over a container of chicken and rice. "Yeah, that's enough for now. Thanks, Jeno."

Jeno blushes, immediately shoving food in his mouth so he doesn't have to respond.

-

Friday comes too quickly. Jaemin sighs as Jeno checks the time, still laying half on top of them, bodies covered in sweat as they catch their breath. “Is it already time? Are you sure you’ve eaten enough? Do you want a quick neck massage before you go?”

Jeno laughs, gently moving Jaemin off of him and sliding out of bed. He pads naked into their en-suite, and Jaemin can hear the water running as he cleans up. "I'm okay. Coach said there'll be food at the gym." He returns with a wet cloth, which he uses to wipe Jaemin down. Because he’s perfect. "I don't think I'll be too late, but I'll text you regardless to let you know when I'm heading home."

"Thanks," Jaemin murmurs, looking up from the nest of blankets he’s pulled around himself. He watches as Jeno gets dressed, pulling on sweatpants and one of Jaemin’s hoodies. "Good luck today. Wait, can you say good luck? Should I say break a leg? Jesus, please don't break a leg." He sighs, making himself pause before trying again. "Just...hit them more than they hit you, I guess."

"That's the plan," Jeno says, laughing. "See you later, babe." With a wink he lets himself out of the bedroom, and moments later Jaemin hears the apartment door open and shut. 

He makes himself count to one-hundred before getting up and darting to the shower.

-

Friday night sees the gym looking vastly different from what Jaemin saw a few days ago. There are rows of folding chairs set up around the ring, and throngs of people fill the seats. A buzz of conversation swarms around him, heavy and thick, making the situation so much more overwhelming than it ought to be. Jaemin shuffles around a bit before finding a chair, sinking into it and hoping he doesn't look too out of place.

"You look like you're about to throw up," a voice says beside him, casual and a bit droll. Jaemin turns, eyes going wide. "I'm guessing this is your first time?"

Sitting next to him is a boy who can’t be any older than Jaemin himself is. He’s thin and small, with high cheekbones and dark eyes, hair cut into what is probably best described as a “fashion mullet.” His posture is completely relaxed, and Jaemin immediately wants to cling to him for comfort, stranger or no. 

Jaemin laughs, high and nervous. "Am I that obvious?"

"Oh, absolutely." The boy offers a hand, grinning. "Renjun."

"Jaemin," he replies, shaking his hand and forcing himself to take a few deep breaths.

Renjun hums, studying him. "Judging by how anxious you look, I'm guessing you're into one of the guys fighting today?" He grins at Jaemin's shocked expression. "I know because I've been there. My Yukhei is a coach here now, but he used to be in the ring a lot more."

Jaemin finds himself leaning into Renjun even more, a kindred spirit in this swirling sea of spectators. He didn’t expect to meet someone who understands, who’s been in Jaemin’s exact place. 

"How do you handle it?" Jaemin asks miserably. "I've never made it to one of these before, the idea of seeing him get hit freaks me out so bad." He glances around, noticing with a brief thrill that Jeno is climbing into the ring. He looks way too good shirtless, wearing black shorts with his hands taped up. His skin looks pale and smooth under the spotlights pointed at the ring, blond hair pushed out of his face. Jaemin sighs, turning his gaze back to Renjun. "People die doing this. It's not that uncommon."

"I wish I knew what to tell you," Renjun says sympathetically. "I wish I could say it gets easier. My strategy just became 'support him until he doesn't have to do it anymore.' Now he coaches other fighters and doesn't have to get hit so much." He glances towards the ring, eyes trained on Jeno. “Is that him?”

“Mhm. Jeno,” Jaemin says, sighing the name like he still doesn’t believe he gets to speak it with his own lips. “He’s good, from what I can gather. Like...he’s won matches, he makes a decent amount of money off of it.” He sighs, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to sit here and not hide my face in my hands the entire time?”

"It's going to be hard,” Renjun says, shrugging. “It's going to hurt you more than it hurts him. But you're just going to have to suck it up and deal with it, because that's what we do when they need us."

The words resonate. Jaemin wants to say something, wants to thank Renjun for his rationale, but the lights dim and the match starts.

Reasonably, Jaemin knew coming to this that he'd have to see Jeno take a few hits. A few. A jab here or there, but nothing that Jeno can't handle. Not his Jeno, who’s tough and strong and sturdy and good at everything he does. But it’s so much worse than that. Every time Jeno takes a punch Jaemin’s stomach twists, nerves alight like he himself is being beaten. At one point Jaemin sees a streak of blood arc through the air and it’s all he can do not to vomit, not to run to the ring himself and throw himself on Jeno’s opponent to bite and scratch and kick until the motherfucker lays off his boyfriend.

Jaemin doesn't know much about weight classes, but he knows that something isn't right about how big this guy is.

The dude Jeno is fighting is _huge_. His arms are long and his hands are meaty and thick and he towers over Jeno, who doesn't seem to mind that the odds are stacked against him. No, Jeno just sets his brow and darts and weaves around the ring, clear and focused despite the blood that trickles from his nose.

Time passes strangely. A round is so much shorter than Jaemin realized, yet somehow they trickle by achingly slow. Six rounds pass and Jeno is clearly already tired, and Jaemin thinks he's going to be sick.

He swallows hard, trying not to look like a complete wuss in front of Renjun. "How long does this last?" he asks, voice wavering. 

"We're about halfway through," Renjun explains, gently patting his knee. "Twelve rounds, unless a fighter can't continue or someone throws in their towel."

“What if I just walk up and throw in a random towel? Will it stop then?” Jaemin moans, scrubbing his hands over his face. He’s doing just as poorly as he expected. “Like. I don’t even know how it’s going, I’m just so anxious.”

Renjun hums and nods. “For what it’s worth, he’s doing well. I don’t necessarily think he’s going to win, not with the odds stacked against him, but he’s holding his own against someone he shouldn’t even be fighting.” Renjun hums, narrowing his eyes as he looks between the two opponents. “Yukhei is going to be pissed, I wonder who approved this match.”

Jaemin is trembling and a bit mindless, having tuned Renjun out when he speculated that Jeno won’t win. Which means seeing Jeno defeated, potentially unconscious. That’s not something that Jaemin can tolerate, which is probably why he does what he does. Jumping to his feet, he stands on his chair and shouts with all the volume he can muster, "Lee Jeno!"

Jeno's head whips over, eyes going wide when he sees Jaemin standing out in the crowd, waving like an idiot.

Once he knows Jeno sees him Jaemin laughs, a broken, nervous thing. "Jeno-yah! I didn't leave the house to watch you get your ass kicked!" Renjun snorts a laugh next to him, and Jeno smiles so wide Jaemin's heart skips a beat. Before the moment can become anything more than that—a moment—a bell rings and the match is back on.

Jaemin has never had much patience for inspirational sports films. They're always the same. A down-and-out rookie gets thrust into some life-changing situation with a supportive team of cast-offs and a rough but loving coach, and just when it looks like he's going to lose the big game he finds some inspiration to turn it all around.

Well, apparently Jaemin is going to have to start watching them, because it seems he was the lucky charm Jeno needed. Suddenly Jeno throws himself back into the match with new energy, using his speed and smaller stature against his opponent. His hits are faster, his steps more sure, and Jaemin watches with wide eyes as he darts and weaves like he weighs nothing at all.

“Wow,” he murmurs, mouth hanging open.

“Jesus,” Renjun says back, leaning forward in his chair.

It only takes two more rounds for Jeno to put his opponent down, and despite how Jaemin winces when the man hits the ground, he can't help but jump out of his chair and shout and clap when the referee holds Jeno's hand in the air.

He didn’t expect for victory to feel this good. He doesn’t know if he can do this regularly, but maybe every once in a while he can manage it, especially if this is the euphoria he’ll feel at seeing Jeno glow, seeing him _win_.

"He's good," Renjun says, joining in on the applause. When Jaemin looks over he laughs. "Actually, don't listen to me, I have no idea. I'm just trying to be supportive."

Jaemin laughs, making sure to get Renjun's number before they part ways.

He ends up waiting around for a while before Jeno is finally able to join him. He's freshly showers, wet hair slicked back, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt as he picks Jaemin up and spins him around. "You came!"

Jaemin laughs, arms thrown around Jeno's neck. "Yeah, I came. Sometimes we compromise, right? If you can sit through two full re-watches of Friends for me, I can do this for you." He leans in once his feet are back on the ground, stealing a kiss. "That guy was huge."

"I know," Jeno snorted. He shoulders his duffle, leading Jaemin to the door. Every now and then someone will stop them to congratulate Jeno, and Jaemin can’t help but glow and think _yeah, that one is mine_. "I thought about saying something but there were a lot of important people watching tonight. I couldn't afford to back out."

Jaemin looks at him, eyebrow raised. "And?"

"Three people got my contact information," he beams.

He slings an arm around Jaemin's waist as they head out, the night muggy and warm as they make their way towards their apartment. There are definitely some bruises Jeno will need to ice when they get back. He's got a cut on his lip that looks like it stings. But surprisingly, he’s okay with it. If his role in all of this is to stitch Jeno back together then he’ll do it willingly.

But Jaemin doesn't think about that right now. Instead he lets his nerves over the whole situation, the anxiety that filled him the entire night, be slowly and sweetly replaced by something else, something that feels like a lot like pride as they walk arm in arm towards home. He has a lot to figure out. They have more to discuss. But tonight he’s going to patch Jeno up, kissing every bruise, every sore muscle, until nothing between them hurts anymore.


End file.
